


Secret Swan Club

by swtalmnd



Category: Inception (2010), Swan Song - Fandom
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Sebastian Stan - Freeform, Secret Sex Club, Swan Song, This is the Most Inceptiony Thing I Have Ever Written, Writing on the Third Dream Level, fanfic of a fanfic of a fanfic of Inception, next big thing - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 19:54:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17189366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swtalmnd/pseuds/swtalmnd
Summary: What if Mattrick considered joining the Secret Sex Club?





	Secret Swan Club

**Author's Note:**

  * For [QueenThayet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenThayet/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The First Rule of the Secret Sex Club](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7119319) by [QueenThayet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenThayet/pseuds/QueenThayet). 



> QueenThayet requested "famous" for her Secret Saito. Then I was talking to earlgreytea68 and reminded that QT has written fanfic of egt's NBT, plus she's very into egt's Swan Song original fic right now, and thus this fanfic of QT's SSC series was born.
> 
> For those counting, this is the fanfic equivalent of the hospital level. Inception (reality) -> NBT (van) -> SSC (hotel) -> this insanity. One more level and we're in limbo.

"Did you know Patrick Reed lives just down the coast from us?" asked Arthur, giving Eames a kiss in lieu of a hello.

"Who?" asked Eames, returning the kiss with interest. He always did like it when Arthur was in sex club manager mode, which was why all the furniture in Arthur's sex club office was very sturdy.

Arthur hummed into the kiss and then licked his nose teasingly. "Patrick Reed. From Swan. Also, apparently, Matt Usher."

"The bloke from Who Can Sing the Best? Really?" Eames started to get that kid-on-Christmas look of excitement that always got Arthur's heart beating a little faster. "Arthur. Darling. Pigeon. Please tell me they're going to join our sex club."

"They're going to join our sex club," said Arthur with a smirk. "Sebastian Stan sent them a referral."

Eames laughed and kissed him again. "I still can't believe Sebastian Stan wants to be in our sex club," he teased. The truth was, Sebastian had come to exactly one party, enjoyed himself immensely, and been on the other coast since. He had, however, sent a small but steady stream of celebrities their way with glowing recommendations for both Arthur's professionalism and Eames' design, both inside and outside of the club.

"I wish he'd show up again," said Arthur, a little wistfully. They'd agreed that, should it come up, they were both amenable to Sebastian as an exception to their usual no-participation rule. Sadly, he hadn't been back since their agreement.

Eames chuckled, sliding into Arthur's lap. "Pining over Sebastian Stan again, my love? I'd be hurt, except I can't even blame you. Especially after seeing him in action."

Arthur shifted, flicking the mouse to activate the screen saver that would also lock the keyboard, a lesson he'd learned after having to spend two hours recovering one of his spreadsheets from the ravages of Eames' ass. Then his hands delved up under Eames' clothing and his mouth worked its way down Eames' throat. "Maybe you can remind me that the best action happens in the back rooms."

Eames chuckled wickedly and pulled Arthur up for a kiss.

Arthur loved to drown in Eames' kisses, the softness of his lips such a luxury when the rest of him was all muscles and strength. Eames was content to mostly let Arthur set the pace today, and Arthur found himself lingering over the kisses while his hands were busy getting Eames' shirt untucked, belt undone, buttons open, and zipper down. He groped at every bit of Eames he could fondle, hands running over the memory of tattoos still hidden in the folds of fabric, cupping Eames' ass, and teasing at his balls.

"Arthur," purred Eames, his fingers gently caressing Arthur's cheek. "I am going to blow you now, and then you can lay me out on our couch and have your way with me."

Arthur bit his lower lip, gentle and teasing. "Is that what's going to happen? And here I thought I was going to lay you out on my desk."

Eames chuckled. "Don't be silly, you've got paperwork on your desk. Besides, you love it when I hide in the knee hole and pleasure you."

Arthur kissed him all the way down as Eames slipped off the chair and curled beneath the desk. "I love it when you know the names of obscure parts of my desk," he teased, but he also sat back and spread his legs in a clear invitation.

Eames put his strong hands on Arthur's thighs and spread him further, smirking as he leaned in and worked open Arthur's belt and fly with his teeth. Arthur stroked Eames' hair, messing up the artful styling and feeling the strands soften as he worked the pomade out of them. Eames used his hands to get Arthur's cock out more carefully, which Arthur appreciated given the sharp-toothed zipper close by. Eames used his mouth to get Arthur going, to get Arthur off, those lush lips wrapped around him and that clever tongue put to pleasure.

Arthur slouched a little more and let himself get lost in it.

When Arthur finally came, Eames smirked and licked those lush lips, suckled Arthur clean, and tucked him away as though he might just go back to work.

"Oh, no, I was promised wicked ways," said Arthur with a languorous chuckle. "I want you naked and on that couch."

"Mmm, I love it when you're my commanding sex club manager," said Eames, slinking out from under the desk and following instructions, leaving his clothing in a messy trail like the slob he was. Arthur shook his head with a chuckle and began undressing himself one piece at a time, folding them neatly into the tray he kept for that purpose, though he pretended it was an inbox to everyone else. His shoes were parked under the desk, socks tucked inside, and his belt ended up on top of the pile in a perfect curl.

When he looked over, Eames had sprawled with graceless wantonness over the couch, legs spread and cock heavy against his belly, all tattoos and muscles and that red, wet mouth that made him look like a porn star.

"You were made for exhibitionism, you know," said Arthur, stalking over with as much confidence as he could muster now that he was naked, which fortunately was quite a lot with Eames looking at him like that. Eames' adoration was a heady thing, and always made Arthur feel like he could conquer the world, if not Eames' laundry.

"You were made to exhibit me," said Eames, holding out a hand to help Arthur lay on top of him, to help Arthur take possession of what was his all along, just as Arthur belonged entirely to Eames.

Well, Eames and a tiny bit Sebastian Stan, anyway.

"You're lucky I love ridiculous things," said Arthur, kissing him again, drawing things out just to be a tease, because Eames secretly loved being teased.

"I'm lucky you love me, you mean," said Eames, big hands finding their way to Arthur's ass and tugging just enough to slot Eames' erect cock against Arthur's half-hard one.

Arthur found himself a handful of lube, because a smart sex club manager stashed lube everywhere, and slid his hand down between their bodies to smooth the way. "We're both lucky really," he said, feeling breathless despite having come far too recently to get it up again.

Eames always had that kind of an effect on him. Even more than Sebastian Stan.

Arthur used every bit of dexterity and his specific knowledge of his favorite dick - Eames', though his own was a close second and also he'd never admit the ranking system existed - to get Eames to the edge as quickly as possible. He licked down Eames' neck and twisted his hand and then bit at that perfect sensitive spot where neck and shoulder met, just to listen to Eames groan helplessly as he came for Arthur.

"That was an excellently wicked way, ta," said Eames, his voice pleasure-drunk and rough.

Arthur laughed and kissed him, moving away to get a towel and grab his phone, pulling up the music app.

"This is Swan?" asked Eames, rolling to lay on top of Arthur on the couch as soon as cleanup was done. Arthur had chosen their first album, _Banter & Badinage_, to listen to in the afterglow. "I remember this from when I was younger, I guess they are bloody famous."

Arthur chuckled. "They are, yeah. And they're coming by in a few days to look things over and check out the security, given that the stupid rumors refuse to die down."

"Are they closeted?" asked Eames, brows knit as if trying to remember.

"Not anymore," said Arthur, "but Patrick's got, like, four kids, so I'm pretty sure he doesn't want his sex club attendance record on Twitter."

Eames hummed along to a few bars of "Luck" and chuckled. "I used to love this song in clubs. We should have a naughties night full of stuff from this era."

"Yeah, we should," said Arthur, mind already starting to whir with ideas. "Maybe Mattrick will have some suggestions."

"Mattrick?" said Eames, sitting up and looking at Arthur with wicked delight on his face. "Mattrick? Arthur. Arthur, love of my life, darling, petal, shepherd of my heart. Are you a Mattrick shipper?"

Arthur couldn't help but laugh. "Oh my god you totally knew who they were, and of course I was. I didn't, you know, participate, but I lurked around the edges and dreamed of being part of a famous gay couple, having everyone adore my relationship." He paused and kissed Eames. "I guess dreams do come true."

* * *

Arthur was unprepared for the swoop of pure fanboy glee in his stomach when Mattrick got out of their car and headed their way. Eames made a tiny squeak of joy, so Arthur took a deep breath and put on his most professional smile, stepping forward to hold out a hand for shaking. "Matt, Patrick. It's great to meet you, come on in."

They glanced around warily, but the back parking area of the club was very private. It had been by coincidence before, high concrete walls around the delivery area for the pub, but Eames had made it even more so with fanciful stands of Seussian shrubs that floofed and fluffed into every sightline. They'd cleaned up and repainted, so the space gave a feeling of clandestine luxury instead of apathetic industry.

"This is great," said Patrick, shaking Arthur's hand first, a little awkward but very sincere, too.

Matt nodded. "I'd never have guessed this was back here, we honestly thought we'd turned in the wrong way," he said, shooting Patrick a look behind his sunglasses. His handshake was quick, professional, but with a tiny lingering caress at the end that could only be called flirting.

"Let's get inside, Eames has done some really great work on the rooms," said Arthur, relaxing just a little.

"Best design project I've done yet," said Eames with a wink. "We change up some of the rooms regularly, too. We had a feather room for one night only after Next Big Thing."

Matt laughed delightedly. "Oh my god, did you really? I'm sad to have missed that, I loved that show."

"You watched it?" said Eames, bouncing a little as he opened the heavy door, bowing for them to go in.

"It was great reality show training, like what to do and what not to do in one package," said Matt with a smirk. "Step one: don't wear anything with my initials sequined on it."

Arthur snorted his amusement and Eames gave in to delighted laughter, while Patrick looked vaguely bemused. "Now I want to do a superhero costume with a giant E sequined right over my-"

Arthur kissed him as the most effective means of ending that idea early. "Don't mind Eames, he's mostly harmless."

They went through the double set of privacy doors and paused in the foyer. Arthur shifted his mindset over to his usual orientation tour, falling readily into the role despite Eames' shenanigans. Or possibly because of them, since he was usually along and always like this. "The entryway is where we shed the outside world and get in the mood. Some nights we have a coat check sub to watch over your things and maybe give you a personal welcome, but if not, Eames found these great lockers."

The lockers, rather than being utilitarian, were heavy metal-reinforced wood with decorative flourishes, like velvet lining the upper shelves and a brass rod with hangers for clothes and coats. Inside each locker there was a tiny safe, big enough for a few accessories and some phones, in which Eames had actually installed charging ports. There weren't too many, but then, the sex club didn't tend to have parties big enough to overflow, especially when most people came in pairs and shared.

"These are really nice," said Patrick, surprised as he ran his fingers over the lush velvet lining one of the small safes. "I guess if you get Sebastian Stan in here, you'd need some security."

Arthur laughed. "He's only come once, it's mostly more, uh, our level of celebrity," he said, ears heating a little. "But we take privacy seriously."

Matt and Patrick had gravitated together in a way Arthur found very familiar, the two of them leaning into each other's space affectionately. "It's really good," said Matt.

"This is the main dance club," said Eames, leading them through the double layer of heavy velvet curtains that were expensive as hell to have cleaned and worth every penny. The club room lost some of its speakeasy allure with all the lights on, but that showcased the niches and nooks, the bar and dance floor, the doorways leading off and into Eames' various playrooms.

"We're thinking of doing a naughties night, stuff from Swan's albums and other contemporary stuff from the 2000s," said Arthur, smiling to himself. "I floated the idea to a few of the locals and it was pretty popular."

Matt bounced, snuggling up to Patrick. "Wanna come have an orgy to our own music?" he asked, clearly into the idea.

"I can tell you do," said Patrick with a laugh, pulling Matt in for a kiss. "I'd like that, but maybe not for our first visit? I mean, I don't really want to be the center of attention the first time like that."

"I do, but I will respect Patrick's wishes," said Matt, pocketing his sunglasses and winking at Eames.

Arthur chuckled. "We'll schedule it for your second visit, then," he said, pulling out his notepad to make a little coded note. "Right now we've got a couple of great themed rooms, this one's a semi-permanent BDSM space," he said, leading them over to the closest hallway. "There's also a medical fetish room that doubles as an actual first aid station, which shares this hallway for obvious reasons."

They'd found an old obgyn exam table and set the room up for naughty nurse play, with Arthur stocking real medical supplies, minus a few things he felt didn't belong outside of an actual doctor's office. It had been popular in both capacities, so they'd made sure the furnishings were all sturdy enough to last and kept the room as a permanent addition.

The BDSM room was a big space with black-painted, fabric-draped walls. There were racks of toys behind some of the curtains, but most of their clientele preferred to bring their own, so it was the furnishings that were the real draw. They'd just installed a round, padded table that was suspended by chains from the ceiling and held tie-down points all around the edges for arranging one or more willing people. There were other furnishings arranged around the room, as well as the ubiquitous lube and condoms and gloves; the stations in this room were either hidden behind curtains or built into brazier-like lampposts that gave the room a dungeon feel despite the plastic packets.

"Okay, this is not my thing but this room makes me want it to be," said Matt, impressed. "Patrick, would you spank me very gently?"

Patrick put his face in his hand, blushing like only a redhead could. "Matt, I realize this is a sex club, but really?"

Arthur chuckled. "If you find yourselves interested, there's a few people available to give you some basic safety and effectiveness lessons." He was one of them, of course, but he wouldn't say that unless they came to him. "Anyway, there's some hallways back here that lead to bathrooms and our other permanent installation, the glass-walled shower playroom."

There were a pair of simple bathrooms down the corridor first, each with a two-person-sized shower and a stock of towels as well as the usual. After that was Eames' newest room, which was bedecked like some fantasy of Louis XIV, with spindly-seeming furniture, an excess of gold filigree, and robin's egg blue everywhere. It was lush and delicate, a froth of a space, perfect for playing 'ravish the virgin' or just a decadent orgy, depending on who was doing what to whom. 

Next was the glass-walled shower and a pair of toilet-and-sink bathrooms for those who just needed to go. The shower wasn't as insanely luxurious as the one upstairs, designed to call to mind locker rooms and dormitories, shared spaces where one might shower amongst strangers. Eames had chosen blue and white tile in a suggestive pattern that seemed fine at first glance and revealed itself to have an awful lot of dicks in it upon closer examination.

One more pair of rooms was left, and another set of showers. Eames had done up one room like an 80s music video nightmare, black and white and slightly strange angles, lots of check and stripe patterns in a way that confused the senses and made the people inside seem almost hyper-real. 

"Oh, this reminds me of my Anything video!" said Matt, turning to Patrick with a sly look.

"You know, we could probably recreate that space for our naughties night," said Eames thoughtfully. "I'm a bit tired of this one, anyway, and we could reuse some of the furniture."

"Yes," said Patrick, cutting off whatever Matt might have said. "We will join if you do that, absolutely, please make that room so I can give Matt what he asked for in the video."

Eames laughed delightedly. "It's a deal," he said, shaking Patrick's hand. "Lucky you," he said to Matt with a wink.

Matt blushed and beamed, looking much more genuine than the showy rock star in the parking lot. "I am in fact very lucky," he said.

Arthur grinned. "All right, so, future custom room," said Arthur with a wink. "And this is the main playroom, which Eames redecorates constantly but always keeps to the theme." 

The last room was big again, just like the BDSM room, but with a completely opposite aesthetic. Everything was warm and soft, the walls bright and full of cheerful bins of sex toys, condoms, lube, gloves, dental dams, vibrators, and other such items. The floor was covered in cushions, both the more traditional sort and the shaped sex cushions that could be configured to assist in all sorts of interesting positions. There were some colorful scarves but no serious bondage gear, and a couple of fainting couches along the walls were both insanely comfortable and a lot of fun to fuck on.

"I redo the smaller rooms frequently, and we're always changing things up a little here and there, but mostly this is what you'll get when you come. Supplies are included, Arthur is amazing, and special requests are always fun," said Eames, flopping into a giant pile of cushions and looking silly and sexy both, a feat Arthur could never quite manage himself.

"Did you bring your ID and all that?" asked Arthur. "We can head to my office and get the paperwork and rules out of the way."

"We did," said Matt, eyeing Eames, "So, rumor has it you two never really play with the group?"

"We're more exhibitionists than swingers," said Eames lightly. "Arthur gets very worked up while clubbing, and I enjoy him working me up, so we built a sex club to do it in without ending up on TMZ."

"It turns out," said Arthur, going over to help Eames up, "I enjoy managing a secret sex club. Even if certain assholes don't understand sarcasm and now everyone thinks they understand what I do here."

Patrick chuckled. "Well, to be fair, without the rumors we'd never have believed it when Sebastian Stan told us he could get us in," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Not that I really understand how he knew we'd want to get in."

"You've never seen yourself drunk dancing with me at an afterparty," said Matt, looking terribly smug. "He always wants to let go and be seen, but can't quite make himself."

"I could say the same for you, Mr. Sunglasses at Night," said Patrick teasingly. They kissed, and it was sweet and loving, and Arthur kissed Eames to keep from watching all of his younger self's fantasies coming true.

It would be enough for now to know that they had, that he'd built himself a life where he could see Mattrick up close, and they'd managed to find each other again while he did.


End file.
